Read Sacked (Gridiron #1) for Free Online Page B

slash secretary you met out front, print out the last five years of budgets, along with our mission statement, program directives, and statistics of usage. The grant we’d like to apply for is an operational one.” She motions for me to sit, and when I do she drops down behind her desk. I have to lean to the side so I can see her. “Tell me what you know about Agrippa.”
    “It’s a not-for-profit agency designed to provide assistive learning to students between the ages of four and fourteen. For a nominal fee, students get extracurricular help in math, science, and language.” I recite the information I gathered from my internet search.
    “Yes, we charge a small fee because that makes sure the student and parent,” she bobs her head a little, “or guardian, as the case may be, has skin in the game. They’ve paid money and they want to get their money’s worth—even if the fee doesn’t begin to cover the costs.” She leans forward, her shoulder brushing an unsteady pile of papers. I reach out to steady it. I don’t think she even notices. “Tell me why you chose Agrippa,” Susan asks.
    “I have a friend from high school who I believe has a learning disability, but she never got tested.”
    Susan makes a sympathetic noise. “That’s terrible. Talk about hamstringing that child for the rest of her life. Early detection and testing really helps kids overcome and manage their learning disability. There are so many ways we can help them these days.”
    I hope this meeting will be over soon. Susan’s words make me feel even guiltier than when I talked on the phone with Mom, particularly when I spent all of my morning adding two classes for the express purpose of further “hamstringing” my brother.
    “Well, a personal connection is good. It makes you more empathetic. You want to have passion when you write a grant proposal, and a personal appeal makes you really want to get after it.” She makes a rocking motion with her fist.
    “Is there any chance for adults?”
    “Of course. We don’t specialize in that, but—” She holds up a finger and digs through a pile of papers on the bookcase near her desk. “Here. This is a great organization for helping adult literacy challenges.”
    “Thanks. If I see her at break, I’ll give it to her.” I take the brochure and tuck it into my bag.
    “You might want to be careful when you approach her,” Susan cautions. “Most people, regardless of age, are quite sensitive about having reading or writing challenges. Adults tend to deny it, particularly if they are functioning well in most other areas.”
    “I hear you.” She’s not telling me anything I don’t already know. I broached the subject with Jack only once before. We took an SAT prep course as juniors. He’d gotten very frustrated and I suggested extra tutoring. He looked at me with a look of utter betrayal and asked me if I thought he should be riding the short bus. I told him that was offensive. We got in a big fight and didn’t talk for about three days. We made up but I never brought it up again. I don’t even know if I can now.
    “Good,” she says briskly. “If you don’t need anything further, then we’re done. I’ll want to see a rough draft by your midterm.” She looks down at a sheet of paper. “Is that in October?”
    “Yes. I could get it to you by October 1. How’s that?”
    “Perfect. Rough draft by October 1, and then the final version on December 1.” Susan shakes my hand, piles me with paper, and sends me on my way. The brochure burns a hole in my pocket.
    •••
    Jack shows up the next afternoon to check out my apartment and, I suppose, Riley.
    “Nice place,” he says. “I call dibs on the chair.”
    He points to a round velvet chair in deep red Riley said she found at a thrift store. It’s as comfortable as Jack imagines and I plan to spend a lot of time there in front of the television on Saturdays, watching Jack’s games. Despite what I told Masters, I don’t